A Day in the Life of Alfred F Jones
by FlashFire44
Summary: Sent to the Gulags prison camp in Russia for a crime he didn't commit Alfred F. Jones is forced into submission by the man In charge, Ivan Braginski. His goal: to find a way out for himself and the other prisoners.
1. Chapter 1

Violet eyes scanned the bare walls of the small office, and a small sigh escaped the man sitting at the desk. How long had he been out on the Solvetsky islands? Days? Years? Time seemed to pass differently here, hanging and dragging, the hands on the clock marching forward in a slow, steady procession; left, right, left, right, keep marching men! One's fallen you say? Leave him be. The snow will take care of the corpse. You there! Lagging behind? _Crack_! A whip whistling in the air, leaving a bloody trail behind.

The Gulag, an acronym for Chief Administration of Corrective Labor Camps and Colonies, was possibly the most notorious of the USSR prison camps. There wasn't really one central camp to make up the prison, per say, but rather a series of camps, an archipelago of prisons scattered across the nation.

However, contrary to the physical layout of the camp, the rankings, or classes, of the camps were very simple. There were, of course, at the bottom, the prisoners; the kulaks, those that had committed petty crimes and served primarily as tools of physical labors, then the regular criminals, and finally and most importantly, those that had committed atrocities against the Bolsheviks. The political prisoners who did not see the good that Lenin had brought to the motherland, the fools that rallied against the USSR. Those were the ones most severely punished, the ones that Ivan always had particular fun with.

Following the prisoners were their guards, then various ranks that Ivan couldn't remember (nor really cared for) captains, lieutenants… they were all equal, no? And finally, Ivan himself. He was the head of the Gulag, in charge of the many prisons, the vast death that cleansed the motherland.

"You are the janitor of our precious motherland" Ivan's Superior had once told him, "Taking out the trash, cutting the rotten ones out, destroying anything and everything that could harm our beautiful nation."

Ivan had played his part well, taking great joy in cleaning out his nation. It was always so wonderful; to see that bright crimson red staining the walls as the blood of traitors was spilt. To hear the gurgled moans, the desperate crazed look in each of his victims' eyes, the strangled pleas, cries, whimpers…Ivan giggled, wringing his hands together in a crazed, almost frenzied way. Oh what a wonderful time to be a janitor, a janitor of humans, of the nation indeed!

"Brother?"

Ivan looked up. A woman, beautiful and pale, stood in the doorway. She wore the typical garb of a prison guard, brown and plain. A simple bow adorned her sleek silver hair, and her face, refined and calm, betrayed no emotion.

"Yes, Natalya?" Ivan asked, rising, "What is it, sister dearest?"

"There are more prisoners." She replied, "The Great Purge is finally cleansing all those untrue and unworthy. Our great leader, Stalin, has deemed these people traitors of the motherland, sewers of disorder and chaos. They have violated Article 58, and thus must be taken care of."

Ivan nodded, a small grin creeping around the edges of his face. Seizing an old metal pipe he kept by the side of his desk in conditions such as these, Ivan followed Natalya out into the main prison camp.

Alfred watched his breath escape from him, the small cloud disappearing into the air just seconds after. How long had he been here? A year? two? He didn't know anymore; his once vibrant and blue eyes were now glossed over and the cowlick that had once stood stiff and tall on his hair was beginning to go limp. Those damn commie bastard, locking him in here! He hadn't done anything wrong! Sure he'd talked some shit about Stalin, but he was drunk…yeah, drunk.

The American hugged the thin coat he was wearing closer to him as he watched the prisoners come in. He was the only one left of the 50 others that had been brought in with him. Ivan had said he was special, though he didn't know why. He just figured the Russian bastard liked torturing him the best, enjoyed using him as an "example" for the others.

50 prisoners. 50 wasn't a bad number. 50 was a very good number actually. There were 50 apple trees in an orchard. A 50-50 chance is half.

There were 50 stars on the American flag.

Smirking, Ivan raised his eyes, scanning the prison camp for that familiar cowlick, and spotted it, its owner huddled by the side of one of the compounds. Glaring at him from his hiding spot, was his dear Alfred, his precious подсолнечник. The man had come here, a political prisoner, accused of insulting the great Stalin, and had proved most entertaining to Ivan.

Honestly, Ivan couldn't say what attracted him to the man. Perhaps it was his hair, still so vibrant compared to Ivan's own, despite the years of abuse and malnutrition. Perhaps it was his eyes, that brilliant shade of blue, deep, but not like the pale gray skies that ruled the Russian winters. Perhaps it was his defiance, his posture, his brashness, his attitude. His pride at his American heritage, his hate-filled glare. Perhaps it was his startled gasps as he struggled against the bindings. Perhaps it was the _fact_ that he struggled, even after Ivan had bound him, even after he had been drugged. Perhaps it was his moans, the way his body writhed under Ivan's own, the flexing of the muscles, the surprised gasps, the panting, the keening…

Ivan quickly pulled himself out of his reverie, and turned from Alfred's glare (after sending a quick smile to said man) to inspect the latest prisoners. There wasn't anything special it seemed, just the same names, same faces…wait. Arthur Kirkland. That was a new one.

Lowering the paper, Ivan inspected Arthur. He was a thin man, small but clearly not weak. His eyes were a brilliant shade of green, and within them blazed a sense of defiance. His face was pulled into a deep scowl, the thick eyebrows of his face knotted tightly together.

"Mr. Kirkland?" Ivan asked sweetly, "Would you mind stepping forward, please?"

Arthur hesitated for only a second, then stepped forward, "Yes?" he asked, malice dripping from his voice.

"You have violated Article 58, correct?"

"Bloody hell, I don't know!" Arthur exploded, "I'm a citizen of the United Kingdom! I'm here for a newspaper, and then suddenly, bam! The fucking police are at my door, and are hauling me off o this frozen wasteland! I've never even hea-"

Whatever else Arthur had planned to say was instantly cut off by the sickening _Crack_! as metal met bone. Arthur went sprawling into the snow, the force of Ivan's blow enough to send him flying.

"Oh dear me…" Ivan said, sighing and swinging the pipe back over his shoulder "It does appear my hand slipped. You are alright, no? Oh goodness, I think I've dislocated your jaw!"

Ivan began walking over to where Arthur lay in the snow, unmoving, but was interrupted by an angry, and familiar, shout.

Alfred ran up to the fight, no it wasn't a fight, it was a beating, and slid to a stop on the ice, panting. "Arthur! what the hell are you doing here. . . " he watched as his friend painfully coughed up blood. Clentching his fists the glared at Ivan. "What the fuck is he in here for Braginski!"

Ivan turned, and was somewhat surprised to see Alfred rush over to the injured man, crying out his name. _So he knows him.._the Russian noted, storing the information in the back of his mind for later use.

"He violated Article 58, my dear подсолнечник." Ivan smirked, twirling the pipe and sending droplets of blood flying through the air, "He wrote things that would have harmed the motherland. Not too different from yourself is he, Alfred?"

He shorted man growled as he walked over to his injured friend "You know damn well I don't know what Artical 58 is . . . and stop calling me that damn Russian name! I don't even know what it means!" Alfred bent down in the snow to try and pick Arthur up but stopped when he saw how much pain his friend was in.

_D__amn that fuckin Braginski__…_Alfred thought, his head slightly bowed, _H__urting Arthur for his own sick pleasur__e…_

Ivan brought his pipe down, gently tapping Alfred's arm, "You can't touch him, dear." He informed the blonde, ignoring Alfred's complaints, "Put him down. He must be punished for such defiance."

Ivan's remark only made Alfred hold on tighter, but only for a second. He knew what would happen if he didn't listen to Ivan, and really didn't know if he could handle being raped any further. He whispered a soft "Sorry" to Arthur, gently put him down, then backed away to Ivan's side.

Ivan's smirk grew, "You are learning to be rather compliant, my подсолнечник" he whispered, leaning over and letting his breath fan over the shorter man's ear, "Perhaps such good behavior should be rewarded…?"

Alfred shoved the taller man away from him as hard as he could "Get away from me you freak" he growled backing away. " I don't need any kind of 'reward' from the likes of you!"

Ivan stumbled back slightly. Despite all he had been through, Alfred was still terribly strong, and the force of his shove was enough to cause Ivan to lose balance and fall backwards into the snow. However, he was up in a second, his icy smile never leaving his face, "That wasn't very nice, Alfred dear" he commented coolly. He picked up his pipe, and swung it back and forth a few times, as if testing the weight, "Do I need to remind you what happens when we don't play nice?"

The American backed away a few steps his eyes fixed on the ground a he shook his head and mumbled a "No". Truth be told, he hated being so submissive but he just didn't could not muster the strength to fight today. As time passed he found himself becoming less and less assertive, the firm defiance he had once had flicking down, fading... That revelation frightened him more than anything else in this god forsaken hell…After all if Ivan lost interest in him he might just throw Alfred away like he did everyone else.

Ivan's smirk grew, "On the contrary, my dear, I do think you need to be reminded. It's for your own good after all." raising the pipe into the air, Ivan brought it smashing down, not on Alfred, but the man in the snow, Arthur. There was a resounding crack as the pipe came crashing down on Arthur's leg. Ivan had not held back, and the leg was most certainly broken by now.

" ARTHUR!" Alfred yelled, falling to his knees as his watched his best friend gasp then spasm in the snow in unimaginable pain. He cletched his fists so tightly his knuckles turned white. Rage built up in his chest, flashing dangerously through his eyes. It took all of Alfred's self control not to nail the bastard in his fucking face right then and there. "Stop it. . . .just. . .just. . .stop. . ." Alfred begged staring at the ground. He couldn't take it. He'd stopped caring what happened to himself a long time ago but seeing Arthur hurt like this was enough to make him cry…and he never cried

Ivan watched in interest as Alfred collapsed by the ground next to the fallen man. He was begging, much to Ivan's delight, and goodness, were those tears? A strange warm feeling, one of giddiness and happiness seemed to bubble up in Ivan's chest. It was clear to the Russian that this Arthur certainly had a strong influence on his dear Alfred. This certainly could be used to Ivan's advantage.

"Tell me, подсолнечник", he whispered, kneeling over, "Have you learned your lesson?"

Alfred swollowed what little pride he had left and nodded, "Da, Vanya. . ." he said using Ivan's nickname and what little Russian he knew in an attempt to placate the other man. Though he would hate himself later for it, if it would prevent Arthur from being any further abused, it would be worth it.

Ivan smirked. Speaking Russian? This Arthur certainly held a strong sway over Alfred. Straightening up, Ivan nodded, "That is all today then, дорогой"

However, before Alfred could reply, a low moan sounded from the blooded man in the snow. Ivan watched with some interest as the man, clearly in a good deal of pain, pulled himself to his elbows. He glared at Ivan for a few seconds before turning to Alfred, "What…the…bloody hell…." He growled, glaring at the other blonde, "You…who are you! You…you aren't Alfred…" he pause, gritting his teeth as he forced the pain down, "Alfred…Al wouldn't jus…just let some…some fucking Commie shit t…tell him what to do! Al…Al…he'd fight, d…damnit!"

Alfred's eyes widened as reality hit him square in the face. Arthur, who was in immense pain had gotten up to tell him that he wasn't being himself. Really what _was_ he doing bowing down to Ivan like this. He felt nauseous, the sour taste of bile rising into the back of his throat. He stood up and turned his back to the Englishman "I know. . . "The American clentched his fists again " I know ok! You think i _enjoy_ getting on my knees and begging like that!" he turned around and glared at both of them "Well, I _DON'T!_" he paused, gasping slightly, "This camp does things to people Arthur. . .bad things" He looked at the ground, the memories of those nights, those long and terrible night of pain, torture, rape all rushing back to him in a single moment.

Arthur glared at Alfred, "I don't care." He said, shaking, "I…I don't c…care what kind of pain you've been in…wha..what you've been through…How…how could yo…you submit …yourself to…to this! T…This injustice…this…this brutal tyranny! T…Tyranny, like hell, is not easily conquered; yet we have this consolation with us, that the harder the conflict, the more glorious the triumph!" Arthur paused, hacking up blood, staining the snow below him bright red, "D…Do you remember who said that, A…Al?"

"Yeah . . .I do " Alfred responded, now visibly shaking. He looked up at Ivan who didn't seem amused at all by any of this. He knew if Arthur kept talking Ivan would shut him up very unpleasant way," I'd only been in the Army for a year when I said that though . . ."

"S…So are you saying…are you saying you had more balls back the…then!" Arthur demanded, "That…that Al…wa..was the one I was friends with! That Al..was the one I..I respected, the…the one I..considered a brother! Tha…tha-guuh!"

Ivan had apparently had enough of the conversation, for he kicked Arthur in the stomach, sending the already injured man flying into another snowdrift. Arthur let out another scream of pain, curling up in a small ball as he crashed onto the ground, Ivan advancing close behind him.

"Take him away" Ivan said harshly, nodding to Arthur.

Alfred avoided eye contact with his friend as the man was carried away. Opting to instead turn around and walk back to the corner of the fence he had been previously sitting at. As he trudged through the snow, hugging his tattered jacket tightly around him, he bowed his head, clutching the worn silver cross that he wore around his neck and prayed. Prayed that Arthur would be alright, prayed that he wasn't hurt, he would survive, and prayed that Ivan would just leave him alone.


	2. My Eating Problem

**Hello! Thank you to those who have taken the time to review this fic, it really keeps us going. On that note, yes this fan fiction is a RP project between me and my friend Megan. Please enjoy this chapter and forgive any mistakes, I took my first try at editing. If you see anything wrong please mention it!**

Alfred sat in Ivan's office picking at a scab he had on his arm out of pure boredom. Ivan had just finished giving him another one of his, now seemingly routine, and punishments. Alfred sighed at looked out the window waiting for Ivan to get his paper work done. The blonde wasn't even sure why he was still in the Russians office.

Natalya glared at the blonde in the office, her pale blue eyes narrowed in hate and anger. So this was the little tramp that had caught her dear brother's attention? That wouldn't do at all. Reaching under her dress, she pulled out a dagger she had on her person at all times and crept into the office, preparing to strike the man as he picked at a scab on his arm. It would be quick, painless even.

. Once this slut was out of the way, brother would return to his normal self, would return to her, and yes, they would be married, married, married...

She crept forward, silently, her dagger slightly raised.

Flicking the scab off and ignoring the blood that was dripping down his arm Alfred lay back in the chair. He sighed heavily and began to think about what Arthur had told him. The American remembered when he had first gotten here a year ago; he was defiant in pretty much every way possible. Then Ivan had broken him. '/inner though/ ' I need to do something, anything to prove to Arthur I'm still my

old self, but what?' he sat there thinking completely unaware of Ivan's sister behind him

He didn't notice her. Thrilling in the adrenaline that pumped through her system before a kill, Natalya struck, bringing her dagger down in an arc, preparing to sink it into that unprotected back…

"That's enough sister" a giant hand engulfed Natalya's own, stopping the dagger mere inches from Alfred's exposed back, "You have no right to touch what is mine."

Natalya froze, "Bro…brother." She stuttered, "You must understand. This witch has placed a spell across you…he has enchanted you, trapped you in some si-"

Whatever Natalya was planning on saying was promptly cut off as Ivan smacked her across the face, with enough force to send her flying to the opposite end of the room, "Be silent." He ordered his face blank and impassive, "You are not to enter here without my permission. Is that clear?"

Natalya slowly rose to her feet, blood dripping down her chin, her eyes downcast, "Yes brother" she said demurely before bowing low and stumbling out of the room.

"WOAH!" Alfred had fallen off the chair in shock after he'd looked up and saw a dagger only inches from his back. Rubbing his back where he'd fallen the blonde looked over at Ivan who didn't look amused in the least. And what the hell did that commie bastard mean 'his' Alfred wasn't anyone's pet.

Groaning he stood up "what the hell is with that crazy bitch anyway. . ."

"Are you alright?" Ivan demanded harshly, grabbing Alfred's chin and forcing the other's face even to his own.

"Y-yeah I'm fine. . ." Alfred stuttered trying to pull away from Ivan, but to no avail. What was with this guy. He had more mood swings than a pregnant woman!

Ivan studied Alfred's face for a few more minutes before finally releasing his hold, "Very well then. Now, are you aware of why you are here?"

Stumbling back a bit Alfred shook his head. "No idea actually . . . you already whipped me so i assumed i would be able to go soon. "

Ivan smirked, letting his hand drop to Alfred's back, "Yes…that was lovely wasn't it?" he asked, sighing as he let his fingers trail over the many scars, tracing them through the thin material of Alfred's shirt.

Eyebrow twitching Alfred smacked Ivan's hand away from his body. "Like hell it was.

I'm in bad enough shape as it is with the whole malnutrition thing; the next thing i need is some huge Russian guy whipping me with 200 pounds of force! And before you say so, no that wasn't a compliment!" He huffed

"Mmm?" Ivan asked, absently, not really paying attention to what the man before him said. His attention was focused on the rising and falling of the chest, the patterns of the scars, the fait outline of the muscles through the shirt…it was all so lovely. With one last reluctant swipe, Ivan removed his hand and lumbered back behind his desk,

"Well подсолнечник…" the Russian giant said, sitting down, "If you must know, I wish to discuss that man…that lovely friend of yours. Now tell me. How do you know him?"

"tch . . ." Alfred walked over and sat in a chair infront of the large desk. "I'll talk. . .but just tell me why you want to know . . . " He knew there was no way out of this situation and he wasn't hiding any information so to speak. There was no dirt on Arthur that could get either of them into anymore poltical trouble, but he still wanted to know.

Ivan said nothing, letting the slightest of frowns flicker briefly over his features before rearranging his facial features into a carefully controlled smile, "I was just curious as to…ah…the nature of your relationship."

Alfred slapped his hand to his face. "We're. . . . . .not a couple" he sighed and mumbled a quick 'anymore' under his breath. "Arthur's been my best friend since we were small, we grew up together. . .he's like an older brother to me. But he turned 20 he went back to England to be in the army there and I joined up in the U.S." Alfred cast his glance to the floor.

"theres really nothing more to it unless you want me to rant on about the past 17 years i've spend with the guy."

Ivan studied Alfred's downturned face for a few minutes before shrugging, "Very well. I will trust you this time. You can go now."

Alfred got up and pushed the chair in closer to Ivans desk before exiting and walking out into the hall and toward his bunk.

Alfred lay on his back staring at the ceiling in his cell. Alot had been on his mind latley and he hadn't been sleeping well at all. The American was disrupted by foot steps coming down the hall way. 'please don't be Ivan' he thought.

"Good morning mr. jones!" a man looking to be about Alfreds age stood infront of the cell doors. He had shoulder length brown hair and wore a green uniform to show that he was Ivan's personal assistant.

"Ah, mornin' Toris. . .and don't call me mr. jones it makes me feel old. " he said laughing. Toris was pretty much the only reason he was kept sane in this hell hole, he was the only person who could make Alfred smile or laugh.

They were similar in alot of ways. Both stuck in the Gulags under the close watch of Ivan. But Toris and his brothers were brought here when Ivan became head of the camp. The story goes that Ivan had taken the three brothers off the street and raised them from a young age and to repay them the three worked here.

Toris was also the only person who knew about Alfreds scars and the blonde knew about the lithuanians just the same. They were both abused by the Russian man though neither of them would ever admit it to someone on the outside

Unlocking the door Toris when in the cell and placed a tray of food on the small table beside his bed. " You know the drill i'll be back to get it in a hour, and please eat today Alfred your looking skinnier. . ."

The American sighed and mumbled a quick 'im not hungry' but started to eat the food anyway.

Toris Smiled and walked out and down the hall. He had to report to Ivan's office soon and decided he'd rather be early than late. When he arrived at the large double doors he gave two light knocks. "Mr. Braginski sir? it's me Toris."

"Come in" Ivan's voice responded, sounding oddly worn.

Toris opened the door and walked in slowly closing it behind him. He gave a small bow before setting a pile of papers on Ivan's desk. "These have all been signed and sorted like you asked for sir."

Ivan let his eyes trail over the papers that Toris deposited on his desk, "By me?" he asked, "Ah yes I remember…execution forms, wasn't it…? How many people have we killed this month Toris, ah, no. Don't answer. You don't know, do you? Honestly…" Ivan shrugged, running a pale hand over the forms, "At this rate, I've lost track too…You know what I heard on the radio, Toris?"

The smaller man shuddered as Ivan talked so lightly about hundreds of people being killed. "N-no sir i don't . . . what did you hear?"

"War" Ivan responded smirking, holding up a single finger, "War. Think about it, think back...were you alive then? Were you around when the Great War, the War to end all wars ravaged the Earth? How old are you Toris?"

"I-I'm 19 sir" Toris stuttered

"19...19. what year is it? 1938? Or is it 39? I can never remember...oh how time hangs and drags!" Ivan threw his arms in the air, "Does it matter? You're 19, so no, no you weren't alive then...it was suppose to be the war to end all wars! But now! Now, on the radio, they speak of Europe on the verge of another! "A keg of gunpowder, ready to go off at the slightest movement"!

It's splendid, isn't it Toris? Look, we all have shiny new weapons, brand new toys, look, look, we wanna play with them! How many people can we kill with one shot? Tell me Toris, how many of our children will lie, bleeding in the streets!" Ivan paused, gasping slightly, his head bowed and shoulders shaking

"M-Mr. Braginski . . . do you need a break sir. . ." Toris asked

Ivan got in these kinds of moods everyone once and awhile and it never failed to make Toris want to piss his pants. "U-uh . . . I know this may not be the r-right time to bring it up but. . ." The young boy clutched his arm close to his side "You told me if there was anything wrong with Alfred to um . . .to tell you right?" he asked the silence in between killing him

Ivan jerked his head up sharply, his eyes narrowing only the slightest, "Is there something wrong with him?" he demanded.

Toris backed up a bit a raised his hand "A-a-a-h well it's nothing to serious . . .it's just uh . . . well he hasn't been eating that much lately and I'm worried he might be trying to starve himself. . .it's happened before as you know. He started to eat when I left this morning but i don't know if he finished or not."

"Not eating?" Ivan asked sharply, his hands balling up into fists, "Now, now…that won't do at all…Thank you Toris." He said, nodded, to the shorter man, "Now if you don't mind, I suppose I should pay our dear Alfred a visit? If he's starving himself…no. That won't do at all."

Alfred lay on his bed looking at the cracks in the ceiling again. 'How can I think of a way to show Arthur i can still be like I was before i got here. . . "

Looking over at the half eaten bowl of food on his tray he sighed ". . . why aren't I hungry anymore. . . "

Suddenly a tap came from Alfred's window, followed in close succession by a number of taps.

"Hu . . ." Alfred sat up and looked over to the window.

"Al! Psst! Al!" Bandaged and bloodied, but still smiling up at him, Arthur waved up at his friend from the snow covered ground.

Alfred poked his head out the window. "Arthur! . . . Gah you idiot! What the hell are you doing trying to talk to me while I'm in my cell Ivan will_ kill_ you! Get out of here you dumbass!"

Arthur scowled, "No. I'm not leaving you. I'm not leaving, 'cause I know the Al I know and love is in there somewhere, and bloody hell, I'm not leaving till he comes out! Now," he said, crossing his arms together, "We are going to have a /civil/ conversation, hear? How have you been, Al?"

"GAH! you've obviously never been in prison before! This isn't how things work!" Alfred all but yelled out the small window. "I've been fine . . . if you have to know. How about you are your wounds feeling better? they let a doctor take care of you right? If they didn't I can make sure Ivan sends you to one!" At that last comment Alfred inwardly hit himself. Of course he could get Ivan to do it he was the Russian's pet all he had to do was a trick.

Arthur grinned and nodded, "I'm fine. Takes a lot more than that to put me down for good! You know, I was wondering why you had stopped responding to my telegraphs and letters! As for that bastard..." Arthur scowled and shook his head, "I still have my pride Al. I'm not going to be taking any charity from him yet."

Alfred laughed. " Of course it does, sometimes i think the only person who has a skull thicker than mine is you!" All of a sudden heavy footsteps could be heard from down the hall. "Shit, Arthur Ivan's coming, get out of here!" he said closing the window and going back to his previous position on the bed

Arthur frowned, watching as his friend disappeared behind the window, "I'm not giving up on you, Al" he promised, his hand going to an old dog tag he wore around his neck, "I promise. I'll bring you back. I'll reverse what that Ruski's done to you..."

Alfred looked over to his cell door to find a very pissed Ivan

"What'd I do now . . . ?"


	3. Decision

**Sorry about the long wait everyone! Thank you for reading! Also my friend thought we should mention that the title for this fic is based on the title of a book called "One Day in the life of Ivan Denisovich" by Alexander Solzhenitsyn about the Gulag system. **

"What is it now Ivan. . . I've been in my cell all day." Alfred sighed and leaned against the wall that his bed was pushed up against. Ivan never came here unless Alfred was in trouble so the American could only assume today wouldn't be any different.

Ivan shrugged, "What? I can come and go as I please from anywhere…I do run this place, no? But I am here for a reason…tell me, Alfred, have you been eating well lately?"

Alfred laughed "Well? That really depends on what your definition of 'well' is. If you mean food quality, then no i haven't been eating 'well'. But if you mean have i been eating, then yes . . . as much as I can" Alfred paused and looked at the half empty bowl of the soup on his nightstand and sighed. "I haven't been very hungry lately."

"I did not request a critique of the food we serve" Ivan responded, "Now why aren't you eating?"

The American moved to sit on the edge of his bed. "I told you, because I haven't been hungry!"

"And why not?" Ivan growled

Glaring Alfred repeated his statement. "I. Don't. Know."

"You. Should. Know."

The blonde's head fell into his hands as he let out a long sigh, "I'm depressed if you _must_ know . . . and when I'm depressed I don't eat."

"What's there to be depressed about?" Ivan shrugged, "You know, you do a lot less work than most of the prisoners here, you know?"

"You're not that stupid are you?" Alfred said bluntly looking at the other man with a very unamused look.

"My best friend just got drug into this hell hole and on top of that not ten minutes in your beating him half to death!" Standing up at his full height Alfred was still two inches shorter than the Russian but that didn't stop him from trying his best to look intimidating.

Ivan smiled, patting the shorter man on the head, "Perhaps he has learned his lesson then, da?"

Growling Alfred shook Ivan's hand off of him. "Stay away from Arthur!"

"I will not touch your little friend if he plays by my rules." Ivan smirked and walked back to the door of the cell. "Now then, come with me I think you need some fresh air."

Grabbing an old jacket lying on his bed Alfred threw it on walked outside with Ivan. He had to keep himself from laughing when Ivan said 'fresh air' there was nothing 'fresh' about the air in this part of Russia, it smelt of factory smoke and people rotting alive. Not something Alfred wanted to be outside to smell, to him his old damp, moldy cell smelt better.

A clicking sound told Alfred that the gates to the courtyard where open, pushing past Ivan he walked outside and towards his usual corner.

The large Russian man smiled and locked the doors again, leaving to return to his duties.

A cold wind blew through the camp causing Alfred and the others outside to shiver.

"B-bloody hell!" a voice came from behind the American. Looking back he saw none other than Arthur huddled by a trash can that really held no purpose in the yard.

"A-Arthur!" Alfred looked over to see his British friend with his back to a trash can trying to keep him warm with a jacket that was in worse condition than his own.

Eyes that used to be a bright green looked up at the taller blonde. "There you are you git! I thought I was going to have to sit out here in the cold alone." A small smile broke out across Arthur's face as he patted the cold concert next to him, inviting Alfred to sit next to him.

Alfred walked over to his friend and sat down close enough so that the two could attempt to keep each other warm. "Sorry 'bout that, I'm usually out earlier than this but Ivan decided to keep me in today."

Empty eyes locked on the ground as Alfred told his friend what happened earlier that day . "I still can't believe the Alfred I knew as a teenager would let some damn Russki do this to him . . . you've changed so much it's just hard for me to accept." Arthur sighed and looked up at the American with a look of pity.

Looking away Alfred let out a sigh, he was hurt Arthur kept bring that up, but as much as he hated to admit it he knew it was true. He had become the Russian's toy, something for him to entertain himself with, nothing more nothing less.

Standing up Alfred started to walk away from Arthur.

"H-hey! Where are you going? You git!" the Englishman called out.

Alfred beckoned for his friend to follow him to the other side of the courtyard. Arthur ran over to Alfred all the while trying to keep his coat from flying off.

They arrived at the other side of the compound in a little less than ten minutes, the reason no one hung around this side was obvious to Arthur now. It was completely run down, the fence was rusting and falling apart in all the wrong places, the watch towers where crumbling down. It looked like nothing had been here for years.

It would be the perfect place to escape if it wasn't for the fact the place was literally crawling with guards.

"Why are you showing me this Alfred?" Arthur asked looking up at his friend who seemed to be in a world of his own at the moment.

Memories of his first years at the compound flashed through Alfred's mind. He remembered seeing all the holes in the fence, all the places to escape, all the opportunity, and he took it. Before no one dared to try to escape, but Alfred wasn't just anyone. It was his fault the place was so heavily guarded now. But that didn't mean he wasn't going to try again.

"We're busting out of here." He said looking at Arthur with a smile.


	4. ANNOUNCEMENT: New rp partner needed

Despite numerous attempts to write the rest of this fic on my own I've come to discover that I really do need another partner for this story to continue.

I'm looking for someone who cans rp **Russia** and/or **England **(preferably both); I will be taking on the part of America still as well as a handful of other characters. If you or someone you know is able and willing to be my partner for finishing this story please either say so in a review to this or Email me at  you can also IM me using MSN just say that you're responding to this. Another important thing is I need someone who can be on regularly. I live in Washington State so I'm in pacific coast time. I'm usually on at 4 or so in the afternoon on weekdays and I'm almost always able to get all day on weekends/holidays. If I cannot find someone to help me with this I will have to discontinue this fic.

Flash


End file.
